Space Carrier Avalon

by Glynn Stewart

  “Not surprising,” Pinochet reminded her. “They’re a necessary part of the healing process, unfortunately, especially with a cyber-memory ready to play whenever you hit the wrong reference.”

  The pilot shivered. With Pinochet’s help, she’d finally inserted a code lock on the recorded memory in her implant of the attacks. Without it, any time her brain tried to flashback to the events, her implant obediently supplied a video-perfect recording of the attack.

  There was a reason code locks were the first things doctors treating PTSD implemented – and it was something Doctor Donner hadn’t even touched for her.

  “I’m dealing,” she told the doctor. “It’s still not easy, but I can deal now.”

  “Good,” Pinochet replied. “I’ll put a note in the system to have you issued some sleep meds. I don’t want you taking them regularly, but if you’re having a bad night with the dreams, they will help.”

  “Thank you,” Michelle said, bowing her head in acceptance.

  The doctor smiled and launched into her next question.

  #

  After an hour session with the Doctor, Michelle felt utterly wrung out. It was never comfortable to dig that deeply into one’s own psyche, however necessary it was, and she suspected doing it on a twice weekly basis was going to be a drain. It would help her recover, but it was going to be a drain.

  She was focusing so much on the thought she almost ran directly into Angela. The nurse half-squeaked as she dodged backwards, spilling half a tray of hypo-spray injectors onto the floor.

  “I’m sorry!” Michelle exclaimed. Angela flashed her a harried smile, and started collecting the ‘sprays.

  “It’s all right, I should have been watching where I was going,” the nurse said.

  With a shake of her head, Michelle joined Angela on the ground, helping collect up the sprays. That earned her a brighter, less harried, smile that set her heart to pounding. As they stood up again, she realized how close she was to the nurse and hoped that Angela couldn’t hear her.

  “Give me a sec?” the nurse asked quickly, stepping back slightly. She slotted the tray into its home and turned back to Michelle. “Sorry, wanted to talk to you,” she told the pilot. “Got a second?”

  Michelle nodded, curious now – and realizing that the nurse had to be able to hear her pounding heart. Angela led her out into the hallway outside the infirmary, away from prying ears, and turned to face her.

  “I know what you’re being treated for,” she started hesitantly, “so I’ll understand if you say no, but do you want to go for a drink at the end of my shift?”

  For a moment, all Michelle could do was look at the gorgeous nurse in shock. For all of the smiles, she hadn’t figured the woman to be her type.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push,” Angela continued after a moment of silence, but Michelle held up a hand and smiled.

  “You just took me by surprise,” she admitted. “I don’t know where things can go,” she continued honestly. She was still twitchy about being touched, after all. “That said, I would love to go for a drink with you.”

  Angela smiled back with a tiny sigh. “Deck Six officers’ lounge at nineteen hundred?” she asked.

  “It’s a date.”

  Under Alcubierre Drive, Castle Federation Space

  21:00 August 9, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  DSC-001 Avalon – Deck Six Officers’ Lounge

  Flight Commander Michael Stanford did not, generally, admit to being a soft heart or having favorites among his squadron’s personnel. After everything Williams had gone through, though, he’d found himself keeping a careful, surprisingly paternal, eye on the woman.

  “If you keep watching that pair, I’m going to think I’m doing something wrong,” his companion told him half-jokingly.

  He laughed softly, and turned back to his date. There were only two Officers’ Lounges on Avalon, but it was still pure chance that his date with Fleet Commander Kelly Mason had brought him to the same one that Williams was in.

  The lounge wasn’t large, a two-tiered affair that bordered on the carrier’s main atrium to allow it a wall of real greenery. The furniture was a slightly better than usual grade of Navy standard issue, and the food was identical to that served in every mess on the ship, but it did allow a quiet oasis of peace and faux luxury on the warship. A similar, larger, ‘restaurant’ along the longer side of the atrium provided the same service to the enlisted crew.

  From the balcony where Stanford had cracked open a bottle of wine from his personal stash to share with Mason, he could easily see the table next to the window where Michelle and Angela had been sitting, heads together like a pair of naughty schoolgirls, since they arrived.

  As her commander, he was aware of Michelle’s inclinations – and he assumed that the ship’s nurse was equally aware. That meant the scene was hopeful and heart-warming for him.

  But, as Mason said, he was here for something else. He turned his practiced smile back on the voluptuous blond who, as Avalon’s Tactical Officer, controlled enough firepower to wreck a small world.

  “My apologies,” he offered gracefully. “I was checking to see if I needed a ‘dad with shotgun’ moment.”

  The Tactical Officer chuckled, a sound that ran over his nerves like a warm bath. “Don’t give my boss ideas,” she murmured. “She may have kissed and made up with your boss, but Kleiner knows what got you exiled to Avalon.”

  “I am reformed,” Stanford told her expansively, holding his hand to his heart. “Reformed, and wounded by your disregard.”

  She chuckled again, and smiled wickedly.

  “Not too reformed, one hopes,” she murmured.

  Chapter 12

  Phoenix System, Kingdom of Phoenix

  11:00 August 13, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  DSC-001 Avalon – Main Conference Room

  It was a smaller group that gathered in the conference room on arrival in Phoenix. The big wall-screen was now focused on the pair of F-class stars whose intricate and eternal dance around each other provided light and life to the three habitable planets of the Phoenix system.

  Kyle joined the Captain, Kleiner, and the ship’s next two senior Navy officers – Fleet Commander Mason, the ship’s Tactical Officer, and Fleet Commander Alistair Wong, the ship’s Chief Engineer.

  The holo-projector currently showed the carrier itself, with Avalon’s truncated arrowhead hull translucent to allow sections of the interior to be highlighted. Kyle noticed that even as the Captain surveyed his senior officers, his cyborg eye stayed focused on the hologram.

  “So, we’ve had a week in Alcubierre drive and we tested everything before we left New Amazon,” Blair said calmly. “Where are we actually at?”

  Kyle glanced around the table, following the Captain’s eye, and watched Mason shrug and lean forward. Instead of using her implants, the Tactical Officer tapped at a keyboard in front of her for a moment, and several systems in the hologram of the carrier lit up in orange.

  “Of our twelve one-point-two megaton-per-second guns, seven were out of alignment on install,” she reported. “My people, working with Commander Wong’s team, have six fully to specification.” One of the positron lances flashed. “Lance B-2, however, is still out of alignment due to a warped magnetic coil. This wasn’t a replacement we could do under A-S drive, but it’s only a twelve hour job in a proper yard slip.”

  “Two of our missile launchers, all of Broadside C, are also down-checked due to part issues. We could fire C-2 in an emergency, but C-1 is completely out,” she continued. “Both of those repairs are also difficult with on-board resources, but again are simple repairs in a proper slip.”

  “Otherwise, all of Avalon’s weapons fully check out,” she finished. “Big guns aside, we’re no battlecruiser or battleship, but anyone who gets in range of my lances is going to know they’ve been touched.”

  “My understanding is that we will have that yard slip,” Blair told her, then swit
ched his glance to Kyle.

  The Wing Commander smiled. With a flicker of thought to his implant, he added his forty-eight fighters to the hologram in neat ranks in front of the carrier.

  “The Falcons are impressive ships,” he told the other officers, “but like any brand new technology, they are temperamental. We’ve had exactly five birds that haven’t had some kind of issue, but it’s all been repairable out of onboard resources.”

  “We’re down to two starfighters trying to be hangar queens,” Roberts concluded, highlighting those two with a thought, “but my Senior Chiefs assure me both will be online inside of forty-eight hours. We could use a load of replacement spare parts, given those we’ve used up getting the Wing online, but we are ready to go. I’ve prepared a schedule for a four fighter carrier space patrol for the extent of our stay in Phoenix.”

  “Shouldn’t be needed, but I trust your judgment, Commander,” Blair allowed before turning to Wong. “Commander Wong, how’s the rest of the ship?”

  The Chief Engineer was a tall and skinny Asian man with a shaved head that gleamed in the light of the hologram as he leaned forward, studying the image of the ship. Under his study, multiple systems turned faint shades of orange.

  “We’ve had a number of minor issues,” he reported, his voice clipped. “One of our life support plants seems unable to run at full capacity. The lights in Deck 16 keep burning out in under fourteen hours. One of the fighter bays on the Flight Deck started producing localized EMP fields.”

  “As with the Fighter Group, these have mainly been repaired out of on-board resources,” Wong continued. “We need updated replacement parts. If possible, Life Support Plant Seven should be replaced. A number of the exotic matter coils in the Class One Mass Manipulators will be due for replacement prior to our expected decommissioning date. I can maintain and repair, but we should increase our stockpile of replacement coils.”

  “I also want to take advantage of the opportunity to fully assess the calibration of our Stetson stabilizer emitters while we are in Phoenix,” the Engineer finished. “We identified a small mis-harmonic, currently non-dangerous. It’s a low risk, but one I want to address.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Blair replied. “I agree – the last thing we want is an issue with the stabilizers!”

  Without the stabilizers, the best case was that Avalon’s interior would be awash with the ultra-intense radiation created inside the warp bubble, killing everyone. The worst case was that the exterior stabilization field failed – dumping that radiation in front of the ship was predicted by some of the original math. That could easily sterilize half a star system.

  “We have been given permission to dock at McKeon Station,” the Captain continued. “My understanding is that we are slotted for a repair slip, as everyone expected the refit to have some teething problems, but I will make sure before we arrive.”

  “I am also informed that the battlecruiser Dauntless, flagship of the Royal Phoenix Navy, is also at the station,” he told them. “Commander Kleiner, Commander Roberts – you and I have been invited to join Sub-Admiral Blackbourne and Captain Campbell for dinner tomorrow evening, after our arrival at McKeon station.”

  “Dauntless is a ship with a long legacy; the third of her name fought alongside Avalon in the war,” Blair explained. “Consider this a state dinner – dress blacks, with medals.”

  Roberts sighed. He hated wearing medals.

  Phoenix System, Kingdom of Phoenix

  17:50 August 14, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  DSC-001 Avalon Shuttle Six

  This time, Kyle was trying to be good and had taken his seat in the main compartment of the shuttle with the other passengers while the two Flight Lieutenants from his wing flew the shuttle over to Dauntless. Like Kleiner and Blair, he wore his dress uniform jacket over the shipsuit that was the base for all Federation uniforms.

  The jackets of the two Navy officers were identical to his, but with gold piping compared to his dark blue. Kleiner’s jacket had the usual peacetime officer’s collection of qualification ribbons and badges, but Blair’s medals were impressive. His included the qualification ribbons, but also had a top row that held two purple hearts and seven awards for valor, ending in the tiny gold icon of the Federation Star of Heroism.

  Blair’s was only the fourth uniform that Kyle had seen that star on other than his own. He lacked the older officer’s collection of other valor awards, though, and other than the peacetime ribbonry, his only other decoration was the Space Force Combat Badge – earned with the Star at Ansem Gulf.

  Most of Kyle’s attention was tied up in his implants, as he piggy-backed onto the shuttle’s optical sensors to view their surroundings. Behind them, Avalon was nestled into the immense network of girders and personnel tubes that made up one of McKeon Station’s many repair slips. ‘Beneath’ the shuttle stretched the immense bulk of the Royal Phoenix Navy’s primary shipyard and repair facility.

  The Station put the Reserve Flotilla station in New Amazon to shame. It had grown haphazardly over the last fifty years, from the single starship construction yard the RPN had maintained before the war, to an immense structure capable of refitting half of the RPN’s twenty capital ships at once.

  “The Queen is worried,” Kyle murmured, his gaze running along the length of the station.

  “What makes you say that?” Kleiner asked. “Get an email from her?”

  “Check the exterior cameras,” he told her. “All four ships of their reserve are in for refit, and they’ve got all six construction yards working.”

  An Alcubierre-capable capital ship cost some fifty trillion Stellars to construct, a measurable percentage of a healthy system’s Gross System Product. Even with three worlds and eight billion souls to draw on, the construction of six capital ships simultaneously was a noticeable fraction of the Kingdom’s national GDP, let alone the government’s budge.

  The Senate had, the last Kyle had heard, just approved a building program of twelve new warships across the Castle Federation’s fourteen star systems. Whatever had made that august body nervous was clearly being felt in the smaller Alliance members as well.

  “We’re all worried,” Blair said softly, confirming Kyle’s thoughts. “Avalon is on this tour due to an increase in piracy – and I don’t think anyone in the Alliance really believes in space pirates.”

  Kyle nodded silently, his attention on the ships around them. Even a ‘small’ interstellar freighter was the size of Avalon and an important contributor to its home system’s economy. Some starship theft happened – but most ‘piracy’ was done with in-system ships and stealth. An uptick across multiple systems suggested something more – usually another interstellar power stirring the pot.

  Someone like the Terran Commonwealth.

  “There she is,” Blair pointed out, and Kyle sensed that the Captain was now in the system with him. He followed the other man’s attention and spotted Dauntless coming out from behind McKeon Station. The flagship of the Royal Phoenix Navy and one of her sister ships, a heavy carrier from the look of her, orbited fifty thousand kilometers away from McKeon Station. Black watchdogs, guarding an immobile flock.

  Dauntless was an even-sided diamond, fifteen hundred meters long and a quarter kilometer across at her widest beam. Each of her eight ‘broadsides’ bristled with positron lances and missile launchers, flanking launch tubes for her starfighters.

  “Two years old, fourteen and a half million tons,” Blair murmured aloud. “Second of the class, eighth of the name Dauntless. I’m a carrier man, but that is one hell of a battlecruiser.”

  Phoenix System, Kingdom of Phoenix

  18:30 August 14, 2735 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time

  BC-067 Dauntless – Flag Mess

  Kyle admitted that Sub-Admiral Patrice Blackbourne put on a fantastic meal. The one star admiral commanding Dauntless and the carrier Adamant had clearly convinced his staff and chef to go all out on behalf of the three Federation officers.<
br />
  While Blackbourne only commanded a pair of warships, Dauntless was intended to be the lead unit of any major formation the RPN took to war, so her flag facilities were impressive. Among them was a flag mess designed to hold almost sixty people.

  The three black-uniformed Avalon officers were heavily outnumbered by the senior officers of Blackbourne’s staff and the two ships under his command. The Phoenix officers wore almost identical black shipsuits as the base of their uniform, but their dress uniform jackets were much flashier than the subdued garments Castle issued its officers.

  The Navy officers wore dark blue jackets with short tails, gold braid at the shoulders, and embroidery down the sleeves. The small number of Royal Phoenix Space Force officers, Kyle’s counterparts, wore similar jackets in a dark burgundy.

  The entire flag mess had been covered in drapery in the same dark blue and burgundy colors, and only vast quantities of bright lighting kept the dark colors from sobering the mood.

  All three Castle officers had sat together, at Sub-Admiral Blackbourne’s right hand, through the meal. Once the excellent food had been cleared away, Captain Blair had become consumed in a conversation with Admiral Blackbourne and Captain Campbell of the Dauntless, gesturing for Kleiner and Roberts to ‘go mingle.’

  Kyle proceeded to find the bar and the dessert buffet, in that order, and then took up part of the wall with a glass of wine and a decadently good brownie. He could seek out company, but as one of the guests of honor, he knew he wouldn’t be standing along for long.

  He was approached almost immediately, as it turned out, by a woman with short-cropped hair the color of burnished copper and the dark burgundy jacket of an RPSF officer. She had the lithe body of a consummate athlete, and moved with a panther’s grace that caught his eye as she approached.